Episode 4

Saint

I can’t deny that I enjoy all this adrenaline rushing through my veins, but now I need to focus on finding Metralha and putting an end to him, I want everyone to see what I’m going to do and who’s in charge of this shit now.

I found that piece of shit Metralha trying to sneak out the back of the house, I dragged that asshole to the roof where it was well-lit and had a view of the whole favela.

I can’t deny that it’s a beautiful view from up here, but whoever’s down there won’t have a good view of what’s going to happen here.

I spent many nights thinking about how to end the miserable life of that bastard, and I would amuse myself just imagining the tortures I wanted to inflict on him. It was relaxing for me to imagine myself blowing this motherfucker’s brains out.

But as much as I want to do this slowly and painfully, I can't risk it.

I don't want the people in the community to think I'm like Metralha; I want to earn their respect. I want them to trust me, and I don't think seeing me rip his 32 teeth out by the wall is going to help me with that.

So I decided to end it all with a single shot.

Because like I said, I'm not like him.

Although seeing the life slowly draining from his eyes gave me great satisfaction, I can’t deny it.

But now it’s time to show the community that I’m in charge.

Author

Santo stood on the balcony of the roof, and struck his best alpha male pose, turned to the people who began to gather in front of the house, and spoke in a firm voice:

"The reign of abuse and violence of Metralha is over, now the hill belongs to Santo. Things are going to change around here, no more absurd fees, extortion, and persecution."

If you behave and follow the rules, everything will flow, now if you fuck up, you’ll go to the ground, six feet under.

You will find out the new rules around here. Now until daybreak, I don’t want to see a single motherfucker on the streets, we’re going to clean up the hood.

Needless to say, there was not a soul left alive there to contradict the new owner of the hill.

Santo still had a lot to do, he needed to get rid of Metralha’s men, which wouldn’t be that difficult, Santo had been planning this for a long time, 3 years to be exact, he had already won the trust and admiration of many men there in the favela, who believed in him and decided to side with him, he already knew who was loyal to Metralha and who he couldn’t trust, those already had their graves ready.

As for the rest, whoever swore allegiance to him could stay, of course, always under the supervision of his men. He couldn’t risk what happened to Metralha happening to him.

It took longer than expected, but the hill was clean.

Now Santo had another problem to solve, what to do with the housemaids. He spoke to an old woman named Maria, who was the cook, Santo sympathized with the old woman and let her stay. Now the other one, the younger one, Santo knew was going to be trouble, but she cried and begged for the job, said she had children and needed the job.

Santo gave in, he was suspicious of the bitch, the first chance she gets, she’ll run off.

Santo decided to take a “tour” of his new home, and he liked what he saw.

The house is large and well-lit, with simple decor and few furnishings.

Saint

I was already thinking about how to make the house my own. I was already seeing how that living room would look dope with a giant Flamengo painting taking over the wall. You can call me tacky, but the house is mine and my favorite team is going to be everywhere around here.

I arrived at the outdoor area where I was already imagining barbecues and lots of pagode music playing.

I was heading towards the living room when I saw a maid’s quarters.

"I thought that tramp said she didn't sleep here."

I tried to open the door, it was locked, and in that instant, I remembered the kid, Metralha’s loyal follower, man how could I forget about that loser?

It must be because hardly anyone sees him, in all the times I've been to this house I've never seen him, and it’s easy to forget someone you’ve never seen.

"He hid in this little room all night? The kid full of airs and designer clothes who always showed up all dapper in the hood, sleeping in a little room like this? Hahaha, I want to see this."

All it took was a little force on the door for it to open with a creaking sound.

Author

Never in a million years could Santo have imagined he would be so wrong in his life.

What he saw in that room was nothing like he had imagined.

What he saw was a very small room smelling of mildew and hot as hell, a mattress thinner than a hair, a blanket too small, Santo suspected it was a baby blanket.

In the corner of the wall, standing like a statue, was a small boy with curly hair, a very worn, light pink T-shirt with a few holes in it, nylon sports shorts that looked more like boxer shorts, bare feet, and a look of fear on his face.

Saint

The boy was standing there shaking like a leaf, staring at me with wide eyes, I could have laughed if I wasn’t so surprised. I slowly approached him, looking him straight in the eye, it was fascinating for me to see the expression he made with every step I took. The more he trembled, the more agitated he became, a curl came loose from the top of his head and impulsively, I raised my hand towards his face to remove the strand that was falling over his eyes.

But in the blink of an eye, the boy was kneeling on the floor with his face between his knees, he was crying softly asking me not to hit him.

What the fuck….

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